


Second Thoughts

by holyphck (orphan_account)



Series: Low Honor [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Confrontations, Drama, F/M, Female Reader, Heartbreak, Low Honor Arthur Morgan, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 22:50:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/holyphck
Summary: There was a drastic change in his demeanor. No longer was he the gentle, considerate man you knew and loved. You couldn’t recognize him; this was a violent and spiteful stranger. Then it dawned upon you: Arthur Morgan wasn’t someone you could picture in your future anymore. And that realization irrevocably devastated you.________discontinued for a future redux...





	Second Thoughts

**‹ ❋**   **›**

 _Late April_ _1894._

You had a falling-out with your rich family after you vehemently protested against the marriage they arranged for you with some creepy, wealthier old man. You eventually left without a word. As a result, you were left to fend for yourself in the intimidating, dangerous lands of the midwest. It was a difficult change for you. No longer capable of relying on your family's fortune, you had to learn how to live on the streets. You heard folks mocking you for running away from your duties to your family, but you kept your head low and ignored them.

Luckily, through the process of trial and error, you quickly adapted to your new way of living within a week. With the perk of being a nimble, quiet young woman, you managed to survive thanks to your wits and cunningness. You deceived your unsuspecting rich targets and only pick-pocketed what would help you last through the days or sometimes weeks. Never more than that.

From the money you earned through stealing, you purchased bare necessities like food, water, medicine, and shelter for the night. Eventually, you decided to treat yourself for your hard work of thievery. You got rid of the tattered, repulsive dress you always wore by paying the town's general store a visit.

After several, long minutes of browsing through a catalogue, you bought a crimson long-sleeved blouse paired with an ebony suit jacket, worn-out jeans that matched the color of your coat, and a pair of new, comfortable boots that ended at your ankles. To top it off, you bought a cowboy hat to protect yourself from any harsh weather you'd have to endure in the future.

Through much contemplation and observation of others, you got yourself a gun belt, a knife and a revolver from the local gun shop. You never ever thought about or resorted to pulling your weapons on another living being, you mainly kept them on you for safety because from what you'd witnessed, guns were mainly used to scare others and showed them you weren't one to mess with. So, you always made sure your revolver was in sight when it came to creepy bastards in the vicinity.

Three months later with what money that remained, you became the owner of a colt for a good price of 11 dollars. The Palomino reminded you of your pony from when you were younger, so you named it Tucker in memory of your old companion. With a mean of transportation finally in your possession, you stocked up on supplies and left your town a day later, forgetting the bad memories and traveling westward in hopes to find a better place to call home.

From town to town you came and went, unsatisfied with each one you visited. There were some with rude, stuck-up inhabitants that didn't like strangers, a few with outlaws and danger at every corner, and some that you knew wouldn't work after one glance at them. Four weeks into your search, you grew anxious of always being on the road and Tucker grew restless too. Soon enough, your prayers were heard and you found a remote settlement that seemed rather nice. You stayed there for two days and ultimately decided you wanted to settle down.

You figured since it was your new home, you would no longer resort to thievery and you tried to earn an honest living instead. From the general shop to the gun shop and beyond, you sought out for a job. Eventually, you ended up landing a job at the doctor's office as its receptionist. Although you weren't experienced with management or interacting with other people in a professional manner, you were given the job and your boss Lucas Stewart gave you an easy rundown on what your work entailed.

Along with a decent pay, Lucas gave you a place to stay once you told him you had nowhere to go. When you tried to refuse it at first, he insisted and said it was better than having to stay at the local inn where drunkards and sexual predators often frequented (that made you change your mind immediately). You felt surprised to learn that there was someone looking out for you without giving it a second thought. For once in your life you'd found someone who was kind to you, and that made you very, very happy.

In response to his generous hospitality, you offered to help out around the house with chores such as cleaning and cooking. When he told you that he had a kid, you made sure to keep your gun away and hidden somewhere safe. As you lived with Lucas, you two became good friends. Once you came to trust him, you opened up with him about your past. He didn't seem to mind about what you'd done to get there, so he told you things about himself.

You'd learned that he was a 34-year-old widower who lost his childhood friend and wife Dorothy to tuberculosis just a few months before your arrival. He revealed that she was his previous receptionist. Lucas and Dorothy had a 9-year-old son that they named Calum. At first, Calum was wary of your sudden presence in his home. You couldn't blame him. After all, if you were in his shoes you would've felt the same way.

However, one odd day he approached you with a question: "Are you gonna take my Pa away?"

Your eyes grew wide like saucers and you asked, "Why do you think I'm going to do that?"

He went silent for a bit, probably scared that you were mad at him. But when you smiled and patiently waited for a response, he eventually answered. He revealed to you that one of his schoolmates had their father "taken away from them" by some woman and he remarried; their father hadn't been the same since then. To help quell Calum's fears, you reassured him and told him that you were merely his father's assistant at work and that Lucas was the first real friend in your life.

It took Calum a few weeks to warm up to you, but when he did, you two were the best of friends. After school, he usually came by the office during your downtime and he told you about the things he learned in school. From things such as history, writing, arithmetic and more, he eagerly shared what he could remember. You always listened to him speak, never once taking your eyes off his smiling face. In return for the things he taught you (after asking Lucas for permission), every Saturday and Sunday morning you took Calum around town riding on your trusty steed Tucker. Lord, that boy never stopped talking about how he enjoyed the little trips brought him on. Next to his father, you were Calum's favorite person in the world.

Two months after settling in, you stepped out of your comfort zone and formally introduced yourself to others in your neighborhood. From the gun shop, you met its burly gunsmith Andrew Hall. He'd lived in town for most of his life and took over the shop when his father passed. Andrew taught you a few things about guns and even gave you a demonstration on how to properly use your revolver by using empty liquor bottles for target practice. Sometimes he would joke about you being a better shot than him. You two were on pretty good terms.

After Andrew, you met a chambermaid of the inn you typically avoided after Lucas' warning in the past. You were in the general shop one evening and you accidentally collided into her as you were backing up from a cabinet. When you apologized profusely, she laughed it off and introduced herself as Ethel Simmons. Ethel was an absolute sweetheart when it came to how you were faring as a new settler in town. On occasion, she would check in with you at work and sneak you bread and chocolates from the inn. As your very first female friend, she kept you in the loop on the happenings in town. She introduced you to other women (most you couldn't even remember the names of), took you to the tailor for some new clothes, and even knew the latest with gossip. Apparently, when you first came to town everyone thought you were some harlot who was sleeping with Dr. Lucas for all his money. Thanks to Ethel, it cleared up when she saw you working hard in the office.

Through Ethel you met Bonnie Martin and her husband Victor. Bonnie was a housewife and Victor, the town's beloved sheriff. As much as you appreciated Ethel's help with making you more friends, you felt uneasy when it came to the couple. You couldn't put your finger on it, but you knew there was something strange with them. After you befriended them, there were times when you felt someone's gaze on you as you walked home from work. When you searched your surroundings, there was no one in sight.

In the end, you pushed those negative thoughts out of your mind and went on with your days.

┈

_Mid September 1895._

It was a Saturday, which meant you weren't needed for work until Monday. As usual, you went on your morning ride around town with Calum. During the trip, he asked if you could take him traveling one day if could get Lucas' permission. You promised him you would once you saved up enough money. After you two circled around town one last time, you dropped him off at his friend's house and paid the saloon a visit. You had a bad week and thought whiskey didn't sound too bad at the time. Unfortunately when it came to you, you weren't allowed to drink in peace.

"Heeeey, darlin' how's about you 'n mes git toogether. We hav—haven't talked in a looong while."

Turning your head, you studied the person who approached you and you realized it was one of Lucas' regular patients. You sifted through your memories and eventually you recalled his name: Joseph. Although you saw him probably once or twice a month you barely remembered him, but he seemed to remember you.

You gave him a brief but polite smile and replied, "I'm flattered, but I ain't interested in you like that, Joseph. 'M just tryna relax before the weekend ends."

Unfortunately, Joseph was a persistent one when drunk. He inched a bit closer to you and placed a strong, firm grip on your shoulder. It nearly made you recoil sideways off your chair. "C'mon girl, I been told I got a way wit' my mouth. I can help you relax real good."

He reminded you of that _one_  moment from your past; the moment that haunted you. You wished you could forget it, but it secured itself in your memories permanently.

Your breath caught in your chest and your eyes went wide. You let go of your shot glass and tried to wiggle out from his grasp. When he didn't let up, you heard yourself scream, "Let go of me _!_ "

Everything went silent. The pianist stopped playing his upbeat tunes and the barman looked up at the two of you with a concerned frown. The other few patrons of the saloon watched without word. You tried to put a name to any of their faces, but they were all strangers. They most definitely didn't care. They were probably annoyed that your high-pitched shout rang in their ears. From the looks of them, they wouldn't help. They didn't care. Why would they?

Your heart-rate picked up and it became hard to breathe. Tears pricked in your eyes. You sat there: wondering why you couldn't have a single drink in peace, wondering why you were frozen in place, wondering why you made the mistake of going to the fucking saloon alone. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why _you_?

You realized Joseph was trying to tug you off your seat by your arm with a, "Les' go, darlin'" but you refused to get up, forcing your body to slacken against the chair.

You let out a yell, "I said let go of me, you god damn son of a bitch _!_ "

And then he did. Right after receiving a swift, hard punch to the face. He gave a loud cry of pain and stumbled backwards, a good feet or two away from you. Joseph clutched at his cheek and winced, eventually looking up at his assailant with anger in his eyes. You shifted your attention to the mystery man as well, a feeling of relief swelling in your chest.

"Didn't your mama ever tell you to mind your manners, boy?" The mystery man spoke, his voice had a deep, alluring sound to it; shivers ran through you.

When Joseph realized the man was taller and bigger than he was, the hateful look in his eyes faltered and he shrank in fear. Mystery man glanced at you and you got a good look at his appearance. And Lord almighty, he was _divine_.

He had a pair of beautiful cerulean blue eyes that captivated you—invited you to see more to their owner. You resisted the temptation of running your hands through the long, sleek locks of his dark blond hair, capturing his firm, sensual lips with your own, and running your—

"You alright, ma'am?"

That question snapped you out of your stupor and you nodded your head vigorously. You didn't know if you were staring at him for a long time, but you felt embarrassed, to say the least.

Mr. Blue Eyes gave you a small smile and returned his gaze towards Joseph, glowering at him. "Now, leave the lady alone, you sleazy bastard. If I _ever_ catch you doin' shit like this again, I promise I won't be usin' my fists." He gestured to the gun he kept on his belt.

A yelp escaped from Joseph and he let out a flurry of curse words. He staggered out of the saloon with his tail between his legs.

You relaxed against your seat. Heart-rate slowing to a regular, steady beat, you heaved an exhausted sigh.

Everything went back to the way they were before. The other patrons minded their own business, the bartender returned to serving drinks, and the establishment filled with piano tunes once more. Your savior gave a quick nod of his head and proceeded to walk away for a drink.

However, you just couldn't let him off after what he did for you. You called out to him, "Sir _!_ "

He turned back to you and watched you wordlessly with a raised eyebrow. The way he stared at you with those eyes made your face flush a bright red. You didn't know if he noticed it, but you continued on. "Please, let your drinks be on me. As a... a thank you."

With a shake of head he tried to decline. "I couldn't possibly..."

"It's the least I could do. Besides, I've got money to spend and having a drinking buddy can keep those other bastards away," you insisted with a bright smile.

He eventually gave in after you kept refusing to take no for an answer. You rewarded him with money for his liquor and he returned with one beer in his hand. He took a seat across from you, took a long swig from his bottle and set in on the table.

"Now, can I get the name of my hero?" Normally, you weren't chummy with anyone like this, but you were genuinely interested to learn things about this man.

"I wouldn't exactly call someone like myself a hero," he admitted, scratching at his chin. "As for my name, it's Arthur. Arthur Morgan."

You let out a laugh, held your hand out and gave him your name. The two of you shared a short, firm handshake and you commented, "You're being modest, Mr. Morgan. What you did for me is akin to what a hero would do. Nevertheless, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Miss."

With Arthur at your side, no one else tried to approach you (just as you predicted). The two of you drank and talked for hours, enjoying one another's company. You told him bits and pieces about yourself: little of your past, your likes and dislikes, and how things were for you nowadays. In return, he did the same for himself, adding in that he was staying in town with his family.

When it was time for you to head home, Arthur escorted you back to your house and you bid each other farewell. Before he left, he said, "We'll be here for a week or two. So if you need anythin', holler 'n I'll be around soon as I can."

The thought of that made a dumb smile grow on your face. Although you'd only known each other for a few of hours, you believed him.

After all, Arthur Morgan was a force to be reckoned with.

**Author's Note:**

> This was _supposed_ to be a two-shot, but I figured too much exposition and setting-up would kill someone with boredom. With that said, things will get really heavy next chapter. Nearly two weeks of writing and this is what I ended up with. _For now._
> 
> Comments with your thoughts are much appreciated. :)
> 
> I am also in search of a **beta-reader** if anyone's interested in receiving a first-look on future chapters. I'll probably take awhile to send drafts, but when I do, I'm hoping that person is willing to correct my mistakes and help me articulate my ideas better. I like to communicate via _Email_ or _Discord_.


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